


It's okay

by bblamentation



Series: A kiss with you (and you) [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, M/M, Major Spoilers, Multi, Polyamory, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bblamentation/pseuds/bblamentation
Summary: Gansey finally takes up courage to speak to his parents. The guilt of leaving them at Aglionby Academy whilst he was with Glendower has to be addressed and his future...[can be read with the series or as a stand-alone]





	It's okay

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for how long it has taken me to write up this third part (9 months wow). It's been through a number of revisions and trying to link the different ideas together ended up making this more long-winded than was necessary. I hope you enjoy!

The only thing better than resolving a mess swiftly in the present was not allowing it to happen at all. But finding Glendower cold and dead had wrecked consequences in need of repair; though the pursuits Gansey’s magicians had stabilised the ley lines leaving Cabeswater to sleep low and quiet as it gave mortality to a boy. The world could rest, whether they had known or were none the wiser to the importance of the ley lines. Though the wonderful and the magic had somewhat settled, even Ronan had said he was still able to dream (though that was not synonymous with sleep), Gansey’s life was a tipped scale of the people who knew what had happened and were eased he was breathing and the weight of those who knew of what Gansey wanted but never feared he would lose breath. His friends were in the first category; his family were in the latter.

At school, the decorations of the fundraiser had been brought down as though nothing had happened, as if it had not been the perfect disguise for Seondeok, Mr Gray, and their _acquaintances_ , as if there was still time for Gansey to lead his parents and Helen around the Aglionby campus. But the tour the Ganseys had received was from Headmaster Child, not their own child.

The texts Gansey had received had been sad disappointments, but his family hadn’t asked prying questions which had only made answering the texts harder. His parents deserved answers. Answers that he both preferred and feared to give in person. It may quieten the guilt clanking in his gut, but he hoped it would ease worries that were knotted in the missed calls and texts still loaded in his phone.

So, when Gansey woke with a crick in his neck from sleeping on one of Henry’s arms and a numbness where Blue had curled around his legs, there was a conviction that he would speak with his parents, to be done with Owen Glendower. For hadn’t he watched Blue and Ronan with the Orphan Girl in the Barns’ kitchen jovial? Hadn’t he seen he wanted that calm they had in the barns? Hadn’t he had told Adam they had to find the dead King? Hadn’t he decided then that it was time to be done?

They had and done what he had always feared: arrived in late procession. Left with the outside world trying to catch up. But in all Gansey and his friends had found the Welsh King dead. He was done.

 

* * *

 

Behind the wheel of the suburban, Gansey ached for the loudness and the awfulness of his Pig. The suburban was too big for a simple drive to his parents. It was wrong. The suburban was used for loading large research equipment and tools for expeditions, not for a drive back home. Sure, it was comfortable, but Blue looked somehow smaller sat in her seat leaning to face Henry, who looked lonely in the backseat. The suburban lacked the speed to head straight to the schoolhouse the three of them had only recently just visited.

Gansey half-wished they had taken Henry’s fisker for the speed; but it was only a half-wish as Ronan’s BMW was something for speed. Only the night before, he had felt the thrill of the BMW as it growled for speed. Ronan had asked for a drive (or maybe it had been Gansey). But more than the BMW, Gansey wished he had hadn’t left Ronan alone that Summer to both wreck and dream a car for him. He never liked Kavinsky. And yet, the Pig had not escaped the demon it had no doubt drowned; Gansey remembered the wheel Blue pulled from the lake.

But with the Pig gone, there would no doubt be further questions once his parents saw the suburban but Gansey only had enough effort to concentrate on how to explain his absence during the fundraiser. Several versions of disappointment and worry of his parent’s faces printed on his thoughts. He could not tell the truth because they would not believe the truth. He had been with Glendower. He had not.

“Hey, Ganseyman, the turning’s coming up,” Henry said.

Automatically, Gansey flicked his blinker on ready to take the road off the interstate. Driving, in theory, should have been a distraction; it was why he went to the shops in the dead of the night with Ronan and why he called Blue to be let out during curfew. Where the roads should’ve been familiar it was not until they were beginning to pull into the street that he had been listening to Henry’s guidance and it was not only muscle memory. But the daunting destination of telling his parents about… well, he still was not quite sure what he would tell them.

Gansey parked in the drive made for guests and visitors. He lulled the car to a halt, parked, but he didn’t move his hand. He kept his hand rested on the handbrake staring at the house. The house stood waiting for the youngest Gansey. Richard Campbell Gansey III.

“Hey,” Blue said. Gansey heard her voice before he felt she had already gently placed her hand on his. He looked to her. Her unruly hair and strange makeup that matched the silver netting wrapped around her waist were comforts. “You’re not alone.” She smiled, his heart a little warmer, and gave a quick glance to Henry who leant between the front seats with his own smile. Gansey flushed.

A shiver of nervousness skittered up Gansey’s spine almost reaching to press guilt into his shoulder, but Henry’s hand intervened, squeezing, almost massaging, the space between Gansey’s neck and shoulder. Henry held his small smile for his fingers kneaded muscle and skin whilst Blue thumbed the back of a hand. _Gansey_. They were both encouraging and expected nothing from him. They both had offered to accompany him and had spent the entire morning distracting him with their talk of fashion; whether they had meant to ease his mind or to simply remind him who they were, Gansey was soothed. Silence stayed between the three of them, but they thrummed with an energy that could not be blamed solely on Blue (on the _tir e e’lintes)_.

The house waited for Gansey. That morning he had made a brief phone call to his father—Richard Gansey II had sent the least texts the day of the fundraiser and it counted that maybe he would be the most impartial over the phone—checking where they were staying and whether he could drive over. His father had jested that as long as Gansey had a car he could. But he didn’t have the Pig. There had been little in his father’s voice that told Gansey how his parents truly felt with being left away from their son. Mr and Mrs Gansey were waiting for their son.

It should have been Richard Campbell Gansey III who parked in the front drive but the boy he was seated in the car was just Gansey. A Gansey with his Blue and his Henry, two of his favourite people. And that thought was far more steeling.

“I’ll talk to them for a bit first,” Gansey said. “Helen will think it a tactic if I bring you guys with me.” When Blue frowned, confused, enough for her thumb to stop mid-stroke, he explained, “my mother says if there are guests in your home you aren’t allowed to cause a scene. Nor should you make them aware of any problems you have. We’re not to be ugly.” Gansey recalled many parties and events where he chewed back frustration. It was here he could be empathetic of Adam.

“That’s fine,” Henry said. That was the way of the Gansey’s professional front.  

“Okay,” Blue nodded, eyes almost closed but opened again to look into her boyfriend’s eyes.

“You’ll be welcomed in but… ” And Gansey had to think for a moment of how he could have both his partners with him yet appear sincere to his family.

“It’s okay we can explore the surroundings,” Henry suggested. “We didn’t get to last time.”

“Plus, I’m wearing my walking boots!” Blue shuffled to pull her leg up for her boys to admire her shoe though they could admire her leg whilst it was there too.

“Thank you,” Gansey said. Speaking with his family would be nothing like a simple errand and taking a walk would be a great passage of time.

The three of them exited the car slamming the doors shut. Blue quickly joined her boyfriends on the other side of the car and easily hooked her arm around Gansey’s arm, a half-hug that couldn’t be given in a car. Not soon after Henry joined slipping his hand in his boyfriend’s pressing himself next to him. Gansey was too tempted to keep them both to talk to his parents with. There was a want he had of standing in front and facing his parents who greeted them with both his hands locked in theirs—that he could always breathe easier with them. But if either of them was seen by his family they would be warmly welcomed and would insist they step into their (visiting) home. Apologising would be hard. Though it would be impractical the knowledge that they would join if he asked was enough.

Gansey breathed. Easy. He shifted and his partners, so dotingly clinging to him, moved. He placed the keys into Henry’s hand as if it was a good replacement for his hand. Henry took them and kept his hand touching. “You’re Gansey,” He said locking black eyes with hazel. “And so are your family. Whatever you say they’ll be sure to understand.”

Gansey nodded.

Beside him, Blue squeezed him to leave and said, “We’ll have lots of things to tell you when we get back.”

Then with as much of him as he could he headed to the front door. He still felt the warmth of his partners pressed against him. As he ascended the front steps, Gansey needed to look back. Somehow, he had thought they would be patiently waiting for him with the same soft smiles they had in the car but instead they were thrusting huge thumbs at him. They were an exaggeration of encouragement, Gansey couldn’t help but smile. He had not smiled until then.

Just as he took a step to turn around the front door opened revealing Richard Gansey II sweeping his son a look as if he had grown taller in the week since they had last seen each other. Gansey was not sure if he had physically changed since his awakening.

“Hello,” Gansey greeted his father.

“Son!” His father welcomed as if it was a surprise despite their call only a few hours prior. “Aren’t your friends coming in?” His father looked to Blue and Henry who waved back politely in greeting.

“They’re going for a walk first. I wanted to talk with you first before I invited them.”

Mr Gansey nodded, understanding the tactic of bringing guests into the home. “Ah, of course. Well, I hope the rain stays clear whilst they’re out. I’ll tell your mother and Helen.”

“Tell Helen what?”

Behind Mr Gansey, Helen was descending the stairs. She spotted her brother and didn’t forget to greet him, “Hey Dick.”

It was what he had expected. Helen was as displeased and annoyed as she was in her few texts. Gansey nodded in greeting not sure how to act in front of her with his father at the door and his friends behind him.

Mr Gansey spoke up, clarifying, “Dick’s friends are off for a walk.”

“Oh really? Which ones?” Helen strode towards the door peering out to spot Blue and Henry watching them. They gave a smile upon seeing Helen. “Oh, the weird ones.” Helen returned the smile, lighting up, and stepped out from the house and called to them, “do you want a tour guide?”

Gansey blinked. Henry and Blue looked to each other before Henry shouted over, “Sure! I think we’re in need of a Gansey.”

Helen laughed and slapped a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “You don’t mind if I hang with them whilst you talk with mom and dad?” It was more of a suggestion than it was a question and Gansey did not miss the implicit _‘we’ll talk later.’_

“Sure, just don’t scare them off,” Gansey tried to jest but was unsure how it sounded. He hated the doubt of himself.

“Oh, I think that girl has unfearing bones,” Helen remarked.

Gansey agreed.

There was a nod between them where Helen headed down the steps to where Blue and Henry stood and Gansey stepped in after his father, into the schoolhouse. But before the door closed, Gansey waved back to Blue and Henry. He saw them hold hands tugging a squeeze between them and they showed it to Gansey as a gesture of solidarity as Helen began to veer them away from the car.

Gansey steeled.

 

* * *

 

Three Ganseys were seated in the lounge, comfortable in their plush rich chairs that had recently been changed to fit with the latest interior trends. Iced tea had been divided between them but only the son’s beverage had not been touched; the glass sat still in his hands. Yet, they were not seated in silence. Mrs Gansey was detailing the newest additions and plans for her campaign to her son. Gansey was patient listening to his mother. He tried to listen to his mother who still wanted to include her son with her campaign despite his absence at the Fundraiser. The only parents without their son.

It was only when his mother closed one of her diaries that Gansey spoke up, “I’m sorry.”

His parents looked at one another before sitting upright and facing their son. Gansey had not said why he wanted to stop and visit his parents. “What are you sorry for?” Gansey’s mother asked.

Gansey took a breath and thought of his friends grinning at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the Fundraiser. I wanted to apologise properly, to tell you in person.”

His parents both sighed; his father let out an understanding whilst his mother was of resignation.

“Is that why Helen’s with your friends?” Mrs Gansey was more observant than she needed to be but if she was less it would have been damaging.

“Yes,” Gansey said. All Ganseys knew the rule about guests and sincerity. “I found Glendower.” Three words caught and he felt cold all over again. The disappointment, the lateness of it all. The absence of magic within those bones. No wish. Nothing. Only him. Only his friends. His friends that had been beside him for so long he could have asked for anything and they would have given it to him. Yet, he had not asked them to join him that night. Gansey had left and his friends had forced their way in. Stood wrecked beside him. Because Gansey was dying on the ley line whilst Mr and Mrs Gansey were waiting for their son on Aglionby grounds.

His parents waited for him to continue, but Gansey couldn’t explain everything to them, unlike the women at Fox Way. He had always meant to find Glendower: to die again by Glendower, to kill a demon, to be kissed by his true love, to be surrounded by his friends, to be alive. His parents wouldn’t understand that but they could understand his life’s obsession. The one that had taken him hiking in Wales, the one that had let him befriend an Englishman, the one that made him move to Henrietta to be by the ley lines.

“We—I got carried away,” Gansey attempted to start. He was unsure how to explain his absence. It was not fair to lie nor to lie by omission. So, Gansey tried for a vague truth but a real apology. “I didn’t realise how long it would take to find Glendower and understand what we found. I got too caught up in my own business and couldn’t think of anything else. I’m sorry that I missed the Fundraiser for my own excavations and that I didn’t let you see that part of my life. I’m sorry you felt that I didn’t let you into my life at Aglionby, but my life is more than Aglionby. The past few months Aglionby had become more of a slow passage of time. It had been a means to an end for Glendower.”

For a moment, his parents only watched him, watched their grown son.

“I’m sure you could have waited a day but then I remember how urgent it was for you to go to England, or was it Wales?” Mrs Gansey thought for a moment but shook her head. “So, how do you feel, now that you’ve found this dead king?”

Gansey blinked. It was the last thing he had expected his mother to ask. When he did not respond, Mrs Gansey continued, “I know— we both know how much you’ve studied and researched this dead man—“ That’s all Glendower was to his parents; no one so significant someone else could not find him. “—You’ve dedicated a lot and I guess we’ve seen the true lengths you have gone through over the years on this search. We’ve always been supportive of you for it. Was he what you wanted?”

“No.” The word came out before there was thought. It was not true but it was not untrue either. Gansey had never wanted anything truly from Glendower. It always had been about the voice and the hornets then the wish. It had been everything and also nothing.

“You look disappointed, son,” his father laughed. It was not unkind. Mr Gansey wore a smirk that said he had fallen for many hypes and loves only to be dragged into disappointment. “It happens that way sometimes. _But_ congratulations are in order!” And he raised his glass of iced tea.

Mrs Gansey raised hers as well and urged her son to raise his, “Congratulations.”

He raised the glass half-heartedly; he didn’t know if it was to the disappointment or for his finding of a near decade search.

“We’re proud of you Gansey,” Mrs Gansey smiled at her son. “Not just for finding this dead King but you’ve always excelled, and we want you to do well. The future is big for you and that’s why we were upset we did not get this chance to see your school.”

“I’m sorry,” Gansey said.

“No,” Mrs Gansey shook her head. “We just wanted a glimpse in your life before you do great things. The other day your friend, Henry, said you were travelling. I hope you can go through with that.” It was an attempt not to press into her son too much.

“I hope so too.”

 

* * *

 

When Gansey heard Helen’s voice chattering away in the distance Gansey almost abandoned the conversation with his father, but it was an almost where instead he frowned at the booklet of the latest roaring cars and waited. Blue and Henry were plastered in smiles when they entered the lounge after Helen. They headed straight for Gansey. Where Henry draped an arm around Gansey as befitting of casual displays of comfort, Blue was doing her best to sidle up as close to Gansey without sitting in his lap. Something appropriate in front of family. Gansey had not said anything to his parents of either of his relationships. But they were nosy and straight enough to guess about Blue.

Speaking to his parents had been fine. There had been little to worry but having his partners sidle to his sides was a necessity Gansey had not accounted for; he had wished for their presence as a confirmation of where the three were with one another. But before Blue could worry she was leaning too heavily into Gansey that either of his parents could ask, Helen was pulling an excuse of her laundry to drag Gansey away from the gathering in the lounge.

“You apologise to mom and dad then?” Helen said, leading the way to the kitchen.

“Yes, and I told them I found Glendower.” It was easier to say outright to his sister.

“Oh, so it was worth it then,” Helen jibed. Out of his family, Helen was the hardest to judge. She had the persuasiveness and boldness of their mother, but she was subtle in her own way Gansey felt on edge.

“I can’t say if it was worth anything.” So much had happened that night (no, it had been days) it was difficult to know if the strain had really been worth the sacrifices. “I was selfish. And I am sorry you were there on Aglionby campus without me.”

“But you would do it again.”

Gansey frowned. “Of course.” Then he thought of the night in the Barns with his favourite people. “I was ready to find him and then I did. I didn’t think it would mean leaving you at Aglionby without any reception.”

In the kitchen there was a basket of Helen’s clothes which she began to ruffle through, but she did not prompt nor ask for her brother’s help. She dug out a shirt and laid it on the countertop before rummaging through again for another piece of clothing.

“Don’t worry, the fundraiser wasn’t a total loss. I talked to Child.” Helen said.

“Oh?” Gansey could only too well recall the conversation or rather argument he and Helen had had regarding Ronan Lynch’s graduation certificate.

Helen sighed and swung the top she had just pulled out over her shoulders. “I shouldn’t need to deal with him yet but if someone in the press does a little digging I have _things_ in place for Child to worry about. Like I said, mom doesn’t need that kind of tarnish.”

Gansey cringed. “I don’t regret helping my friend.”

“You hold your friends loftily high,” Helen regarded her brother. “I wish I had even one half decent friend that you have. Let me steal those two from you next time. We were wandering around so much and getting away with ourselves Blue needs a change.” She gestured to the laundry basket. “But really they are good kids. I enjoyed them last time and this. They have some consistency.”

“You’re getting old.”

“Says the old man in a teen’s body.”

They both laughed. And Gansey felt it in his chest, saw his sister he could always count on. “I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment.” Hearing his sister like his friends was more than enough to make himself happy. He did have good friends. Ones that he loved. And he was glad he had them all this past year, no, more when he had started with Ronan and Noah buying Monmouth. “Do you believe in things like fate?”

Helen blinked, rummaging through the clothes. It as not the response she was expecting. “Do you?”

Yes. After everything with Blue how could he not. Gansey shrugged. “I’m asking my older sister for advice.”

“Short answer no,” Helen said simply. Curt and matter-of-fact as though he was childish to ask. But she continued, “It would be nice to have things like fate and destiny since it implies we have purpose in life. But then I’d rather not. It sounds too rigid. Too forced. Then again, I’m always looking for loopholes and the fine print.” She looked over her brother taking in the darkness under his eyes and the wrinkles in his clothes where he had not had the time to iron. “It’s normal to worry over life and the future but your obsession with that dead man was unhealthy. You’ve missed a lot but actually if anything I’m kind of glad you missed the fundraiser.”

“Sorry.”

“We’ve got an apology although a week late.” Helen waved it off. _Teenagers_. She watched as Gansey contemplated her thoughts which was the perfect moment for a tease. “So, have you still not kissed her?”

They both knew who she meant. Gansey had but he still said, “No.” It was the half-truth. “But I have kissed Henry.”

“Oh,” Helen frowned. It was more confusion than disapproval. “I thought you liked the girl?”

“I do.”

Helen studied her brother, not quite sure what he meant.

“It’s complicated,” Gansey said lamely.

“Try me.” Helen cocked a brow.

Gansey considered his sister. Helen was the most involved family member in his life. Maybe it was the closeness of their age or how their mannerisms were of similar tastes, but Gansey could always count on his older sister. Helen brought gear and strange equipment for her little brother and yet she was not aware of the magic and the need that ran through Gansey every day. Though she still held the same expectations—greatness—his parents had for him Helen was never disappointed in Gansey. Angry, sure, but never disappointed.

“The three of us are dating,” Gansey said it as simply as it was fact. He could only imagine the conversations Henry and Blue were having with his parents in the lounge.

“Wow,” Helen considered her brother. “I’ll take back my comments about the Lynch boy then. Unless you’re also—”

Gansey sighed. “No.” They were all his friends foremost. His love for Blue was different for his love for Henry which were different for his love for Ronan, for Adam, even for Noah. His love for Blue and Henry were not truly the same either (not that that one was more but they were different). He was also many versions of himself with them. Real. Where he could talk for days about the fascination of the ley lines and be met with understanding or enjoyment not confusion. His friends.

“You have a strange life,” Helen laughed at the worry over her brother’s face.

Gansey smiled. Of course he did.

“Come on then. Blue needs this top and you need to be in company.”

 

* * *

 

The suburban did not have the speed of the sports cars the boys in Blue’s life seemed to dote on, but it still had a strong engine and a rumble that tempted an experienced driver. Yet, no matter the car whether it was the chugs of Adam’s second-hand car or the growls of the Pig, Blue Sargent, slowest driver in the US, was unaffected by the demands of the engine.

“Blue, you seriously don’t drive this slow?” Henry groaned with disbelief wiping his face and muttering something under his breath. Blue could not tell if it was in English or Korean. She didn’t need a man to comment on her driving skills, again.

Leaving the Ganseys’ visiting home, the roads towards Henrietta were pleasantly quiet that the suggestion of giving Blue lessons on open roads would be a good passage of time, even if made them risk breaking roadside laws. Though with Blue’s speed they were having a longer trip home. Henry had the (mis)fortune of not knowing the extent of Blue’s atrocity to driving and so had not raised a question to Gansey. Usually, Gansey was the one teaching her the rules of the road, brushing his hand more than was necessary (not that Blue ever complained—unless it felt patronising). It was always Gansey who complained that driving too slowly was just as dangerous as too fast. But Gansey had fewer comments of her skill than Henry did, despite the fact they had switched seats, Blue in the driver’s seat and him in the passenger’s.

Since they had left the house, Gansey had kept to himself. Blue had not heard the conversation Gansey had had with his parents nor with Helen. Since the conversations in the house Blue could not help glancing his way to check on him. She took the glance to her left to check; his brows were deep-set that they almost disappeared behind his frames but mostly she watched as he folded his lower lip under his teeth, chewing.

Blue opened her mouth to say something to Gansey, to drag him from his thoughts, but cold breath blew in her ear. She gave a startled shrug and glared at Henry in the mirror. “What—”

“Eyes on the road,” Henry said.

“That’s dangerous,” Blue tutted and trained her eyes back on the road before her, the cold in her ear lingering a moment.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Henry leaning through the gaps between their seats.

“Here,” Henry said. Blue stole a glance to the hand Henry was offering. It was not for her. “You’re chewing the inside of your cheek.”

A second passed before Gansey replied, sincere, “thanks.”

Blue could smell fresh mint.

Another moment passed before Gansey spoke again. “You drive better in the pig. Maybe a stick-shift would help with getting a feel of the engines.”

The three adolescents continued their journey on a very slow path (or rather it had been made slow with caution). It felt nice to be in the car with them, listening to their guidance and snapping at Henry’s patronising. When the roads began to become busier Henry suggested they turn off into one of the diners on the side of the road. Parking the suburban was difficult due to its size and Blue’s inexperience that Gansey ended up neatening the wheels.

Inside the diner, the tables were surprisingly packed for an out of place diner. “I think this may be a tourist hotspot,” Henry commented as he slid into his spot opposite Blue and Gansey. He flicked his phone out and began scrolling. “It would be fun to just drive around to hotspots like this. No, we could go on those long walks and find Gansey things.”

“Magic, hiking, burying your face in the mud, and testing waters.” Blue suggested.

“Gansey things,” Henry agreed.

Gansey couldn’t deny the list. It was made of him. It was not kings but magic and friendship.

“Thank you,” Gansey said. When the two looked up from their menus to him, questioning, he continued, “for coming with me to see my family. I can’t remember all that much that I said. But we spoke of Glendower and they congratulated me.” Gansey paused. Finding Glendower dead. No magic just death was not the cause of celebration. “They expect things but I think all I want for now is this.” In ease he gestured between the three of them.

Blue smiled and leaned into Gansey, whilst Henry grinned. The two of them looked as if they were about to say something but the waiter came over for their orders disturbing the three’s space. Though that did not stop Henry from hooking a foot to pull on Gansey’s leg.                                                                                                                       

When the waiter left taking the menus, Blue slipped her hand in Gansey’s resting on the table. “Helen kept asking about you when we were on our walk. I think it was her slightly checking up on you, but she exchanged stories of when you were younger.”

“Oh, what did she say?” Gansey dreaded the stories she would have exchanged. He could not think of anything particularly bad that was not a reference to Glendower.

“Nothing, it was cute,” Henry smiled as he tapped his foot to his in a tease. “But to answer you before, I like _this_.”

It was the three of them seated in their little booth waiting for food after teaching Blue to drive, after laughing and relieving tension in a Gansey household, after a night of having their limbs curled in and over one another. It was the three of them.

Maybe it was because there was a table between them, but Henry picked both Blue’s and Gansey hands in his and bowed his head to kiss them. His lips grazing their fingers. Gansey chuckled. It was odd but it lifted his heart from the weight of his afternoon. And where Gansey smiled, dimple creasing, Blue was sharing a knowing glance with Henry that she tensed a little beside Gansey.

“You okay?” Gansey asked.

Blue exhaled and smiled. “Yes. He did this to me yesterday.”

Henry pecked another kiss on Blue’s hand and leaned forward enough to touch her cheek but not enough to kiss her. “Blue Sargent is not unkissable. Neither of you are.”

And Gansey felt the tension in Blue’s shoulders stiffen. Henry had kissed Blue. But it was not that information that gave worry it was another. Something knowing. It was all those times when Gansey looked at Blue with a want to touch her skin, to feel her warmth with him, just as he did then in the diner. With Henry’s hand holding his, with Henry holding Blue’s, with Blue holding his. It was the three of them.

Where the past year Gansey and Blue had stolen glances and touches and yet here with Henry they had held tightly into those embraces. They each had kissed Henry. Henry had each kissed them.

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was because Henry was fond of the kisses he received from his partners, he tried to relieve them of their worries of fate, curses, and kisses. That was difficult when they were just afraid of kissing as he was with holes. And though, Henry calmed them that it was okay to be afraid it was also edged differently—being scared for oneself was different to being scared to hurt the other.

Everyone had known about Blue and Gansey’s kiss years before Blue had sobbed and leaned into a dying Gansey. Since the night they had found Glendower, Blue had dared not kiss Gansey the same way they kissed Henry. The only touches she could handle were the embraces of hugs and curling into Gansey and even then it was not. Blue could still feel Gansey’s weight when he made himself comfortable on her lap; she could feel the emptiness and the loss of Gansey. For a kiss, it was not the kind of undone Blue had wanted.

It had been too much to hope for their first kiss to have been just as Henry’s had been. Though Gansey had known Blue could not kiss, he had wished it so in each time he wrapped his arms round her and breathed in her neck, or to be tangible when she talked on the phone. And so often Gansey had voiced his want to kiss her, but she never had taken the risk. Never until it was needed.

But since waking, demon dead, neither Gansey or Blue had spoken about the kiss. They had only once touched on the recollection to Maura but to one another they had not. Not truly. And certainly, without the company of Henry. Whether it was a peck or a tender embrace from the resident Cheng, it was hard not to avoid the looks Blue and Gansey to each other, but it was also hard to voice.

So, it began with the embraces. More often than not, Blue could be found curled up into Gansey’s side whether they were at Monmouth or listening to Ronan and Adam in the Barns. The hugs goodbye on the occasions they left one another’s sides were that they were closer than they had before. No, not closer, but more together, connected. Embraces that they were satisfied with.

And in the days after, when he was alone with Henry and they held hands, Henry rubbing his hand with his thumb, Robobee humming, Gansey’s thoughts wandered to the day he visited his parents. That day had been the three of them together with the Ganseys—Blue and Henry solid and strength for Gansey worrying in guilt. And it was in that diner with Henry holding both his and Blue’s hands pecking a kiss, whispering “unkissable.”

But often they were three together. Touching her hand in that moment flooded a feeling of heated warmth. Caressed her hands where one day he would dare. Gansey thought what it would be like to kiss Blue. Not lips to lips, but what if he pressed a mouth to her dark brown skin…

 

* * *

 

Mr and Mrs Gansey’s congratulations and Helen’s sly comments kept Gansey staring at the high ceiling of Monmouth. The night was still and he with it; more so with the small body of Blue Sargent by his side and a Henry half-laid on his legs. It had been a while since he and his bed did not have another set of limbs entangled in the sheets and Gansey half-feared the night when he would be dealing with his insomnia without company. Only half-feared as often those nights he had been relieved in a phone call to Fox Way or escaped Monmouth with Ronan in the dead of 3am.

While he tried to keep to himself his thoughts must have bled into the air, as Blue stirred. The room was too dark for Gansey to see Blue’s face properly, but he knew how she frowned each time she woke, her face always creased.

“Hey.”

Gansey could not remember what was said after or if anything was really said between them. He was not sure how Henry woke. Yet, Gansey was sat in his Suburban but for the second time that week he was in the passenger seat whilst Henry laid on the backseat and Blue sat small in the driver’s seat for her driving lessons. The darkness of Henrietta made a cautious driver wary. Gansey said things here and there to help Blue though it was mostly letting her cruise along the quiet roads. His thoughts of the past two weeks dragging through his head. How had it been so long yet not so since they had found Glendower.

Gansey had his magicians and they were his healing. His steel.

And though they were not in the cosiness of the Pig, in its own magical groan and glory, Gansey felt the calm as Blue had begun telling the dream she had had. Her in Fox Way but also in Nino’s, dancing around in the corners of Henrietta. Though she recalled a fantasy her brain had conjured it reminded him of how he first moved to Henrietta for the magic, the ley lines, the mystery. It’s where he both started ended the last leg of his Glendower search.

They had done about an hour’s drive around before Blue was creeping the large Suburban back into the drive of Monmouth Manufacturing. When she clicked the handbrake and switched off the engine Blue gave a sigh of relief.

“We’re back,” she said finally shifting in her seat to face Gansey and glanced at the snoozing Henry. Concentrating on driving made it difficult to look at him—she was unsure how the boys could glance away from the road long enough to engage in full conversation or catch expressions. Driving was busy.

Maybe it had been the night drive, or the week, or maybe it was just Gansey was weak when it came to Blue, but he could not help smile at her face. She looked tired, unused to late hours of the night. She was still Blue in her most unforgiving way that he was thankful they had become friends—that as they sat there face to face, silent, he had not known those thoughts of before (his future) were drifting. It was those late night calls; and it was here in a late night drive that Blue had cruised.

One thought risked.

“Jane,” Gansey spoke lightly as. “What if I was the one to kiss you?”

And he held her hand just as Henry done to them back in the diner. The three of them as strong.

Blue sucked in a breath, could not swallow.

And it was as though they were back in the Pig, Gansey asking the same question as before, raw. They had been younger then, with only the fear of Blue’s prophecy. But now Blue could choke on the fear she had from experience. It was her side that was born from Artemus that made such a prophecy true. Blue could hate him for that, but she couldn't.

“I don’t want to-“ Blue cut herself off—or had it been the gentle caress of Gansey’s hand against her cheek as he whispered an apology. She was crying. It was not gasping sobs, or wretched hiccups. It was the kind where tears had already streamed down cheeks, only noticed when they reached the corner of your lip.

“I’m sorry,” Gansey said softly, his hand still brushing the tears that fell. They had avoided talking of her prophecy for death was not forgiving, only Cabeswater had been.

But with Henry in the backseat of the car, sleeping, Robobee on mute, and his occasional pecks ghosting on both of their skins, it made it difficult for both of them not to risk glances at one another’s lips.

They were quiet, joined by the caresses of Gansey’s hand on Blue’s cheek and their fingers touching lightly but needing. Henry’s words from before, solid, “unkissable.” Blue glanced at their hands and squeezed them. Understanding what Gansey was asking she brought their hands up to her face. She dd not speak in fear she would break the silence and they would both retreat. Gansey watched her drag their hands to her lips and he watched as she pressed her lips against the back of her own hand her nose grazing his thumb. A tickle that heated his skin. She lifted their hands away, almost gave her weight to Gansey, for him to copy.

And he did.

He took her hand and placed it by his lips. So often he had breathed in the crook of her neck and buried his face in her wild hair. Only once had he been close to brushing her knuckles with a kiss, and here again he did so. It was a peck. A kiss. His lips on her skin and he could feel the heat rise through his body but it was not of something strange. It was a warmth he was familiar with, a blush.

When he looked up his lips still on her skin, Blue smiled, and Gansey dared to. The hand that had been on her cheek was lax and his thumb was barely an inch from the corner of her lips. Blue watched his eyes glance to her lips, knowing. Waiting.

“Can I?”

A tentative ask.

A nod.

A pause.

The shift from his seat to lean into Blue’s space, her head tilting ever so slightly, patient, was awkward in the space of the car. Yet, they met. It could have been classed as a peck, but Gansey’s lips lingered on Blue’s cheek. He could feel the tense hesitation, the squeeze of her hand in his hand.

He leant back to survey Blue. She was watching him, feeling him. Taking each other in they dared to try, for Gansey had kissed Blue. Though it was not a first kiss it was charged with the energy of them. Feeling. With Gansey’s hand still ghosting her cheek, a thumb so dangerously close to her mouth, he pressed at the corner parting her lips ever so slightly. There was an apology in the back of his throat when they had been drenched on the ley line, but he pushed it aside; as his parents congratulated the end of the search. And he leaned in pressing a kiss to the corner of Blue’s mouth, feeling her inhale. He retreated his head ever so slightly before stopping with the press of her hand on his shoulder.

Maybe it was the wording of Blue’s prophecy.

In haste, Blue leaned and copied Gansey. She pecked his cheek, softer, brief but the touch heated them both. She could feel the inhale of breath by her ear, the brush of mint breath on her neck, and the tentative touch of a hand on her waist. Blue was breathing just as hard waiting for a change in Gansey’s breath—or rather for the absence of breath—but it did not come. It was all mint.

Neither were sure why there was difference here, in the Suburban. Really, the ley lines or Fox Way would have been safer with its house filled with psychics and scryers, the attic of mirrors, and the residence of an ex-sleeper. But they had a boy dozing in the backseat of the car who had stood by them, was a place of grounding. The three of them together.

“Finally.”

Blue wanted to kick Henry out of the car there and then; he had the coy face of someone who had been awake the whole time.


End file.
